


Kneazles, Inc

by wendiferous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Kneazles, M/M, Magical Pets, Minnesota, Multi, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Pets, Sphynx, all my obsessions poured into a single fic, can you tell I love cats, hairless cats, so many cats
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25317862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendiferous/pseuds/wendiferous
Summary: When Harry discovers a weird... thing in his house, he doesn't know what to do, or where it came from, but it keeps eating all his tuna! Little does he know that this single encounter with a pet Kneazle will bring him closer to an old enemy, and help him make some discoveries about himself along the way.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 68
Kudos: 124





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi folks! This fic is going to take a while to live up to its rating, but I promise it will get there eventually! Enjoy :)

Harry walked into Grimmauld Place, shaking the rain from his hair and shrugging off his outer robe. It fell to the floor and lay limp and accusing on the dull hardwood floor. Harry stared at it. He knew he should pick it up, put it away, and ensure that it was ready to go again in the morning, but the thought of even that level of effort left him feeling bleak. He trudged into the house, dripping on the floor, ignoring the vague voice in his head that kept softly saying that being an auror was not supposed to feel like this. He shoved it down, and went to sit on the couch. He could smell something savory wafting from the kitchen- it seemed that Kreacher was making a French Onion soup.

Without even bothering to take off his boots, Harry collapsed onto the old, worn couch in the sitting room at Grimmauld. He was looking forward to an evening of lying still, doing nothing, and then eventually collapsing into bed, perhaps after having eaten some of Kreacher’s soup. His plans took an abrupt turn as he lay on the couch, stretched his hands above his head and felt- skin.

Harry yelped, drew his hand back into his chest, and did an ungainly sort of roll onto his chest to see who he had just inadvertently touched. As far as he knew, Grimmauld Place was still heavily warded- no one should be allowed to gain entrance without his knowledge, and none of the people who had access had said they were coming over this evening. 

Reaching for his wand, Harry prepared to blast the intruder out of his home, and was trying to decide how much trouble he’d be in with the aurors if he used one of the spells specifically for apprehending criminals, when he saw what it was that he had touched, and stopped. His mouth fell open, and his eyes grew huge as he stared.

It stared right back at him, with huge green eyes, giant ears like a bat, and wrinkled and droopy skin all over. It was about the size of a pint glass, and appeared to be completely naked. Harry stared. It stared back. It looked puzzingly familiar, and after a moment of Harry and the creature staring at each other, Harry laughed, just a bit, and realized what it was that he was looking at.

“Kreacher!” he called out. “Kreacher, can we talk for a second?”

There was a crackle in the air, and then with a loud pop, Kreacher apparated into the living room, still holding a ladle and bringing the scent of French Onion Soup with him. He gave Harry the odd squinting expression that Harry had learned (through some misunderstandings) was a sort of exasperated fondness.

“Yes, Master Harry? Does he be having a task for poor Kreacher? Master Harry is looking far too thin, oh yes, so Kreacher is working most diligently on soup, of course, of course. But perhaps Master Harry knows better than Kreacher, and thinks something is more important than his well being and nutrition?” 

Kreacher gave Harry a look, and Harry shrank back a little. Kreacher had, on one memorable afternoon, had tea with Molly Weasley, and the two of them had complained at length about Harry’s deplorable thinness, and general disregard for his well being. It had been mortifying, and seemed to have inspired Kreacher to adopt the persona of a terrifying mother hen. Also, he was fairly certain they owled about him- he was almost sure that he’d seen Molly’s owl, Celestina, flying away from the house on days when Molly had not written to him at all. 

“Er, not really a task, Kreacher, and thank you for soup, I’ll be sure to eat some, it really does smell good. I just thought maybe you had something you wanted to say to me? About, er, this? I mean, it’s fine if you have, uhm, relations, who want to stay, it’s just, I’ve never really interacted with a baby house elf before, and I don’t quite know what they need. Am I supposed to babysit? Should you really leave it alone while you’re in the kitchen?” Harry said, pointing at the small being still perched on the arm of his couch.

Kreacher looked at Harry, and then looked at the arm of the couch. He began to make an odd croaking noise, which, after a moment’s difficulty, Harry identified as laughter.

“Master… Harry… is thinking it is a relation to Kreacher! Oh, such a day. Where is Kreacher going to be getting such a relation, Master Harry? Is he thinking it is Kreacher’s child? Kreacher’s nephew? No, no, Master Harry,” said Kreacher, still croaking between words. “This is not being a house elf. Master Harry can be babysitting if he wants, but what good will come of it, I don’t know. Be still one moment, Kreacher will fetch what it needs.” With another crack, Kreacher disappareted, leaving Harry staring in his wake. Not a house elf? But then, what kind of…

Before Harry could finish his thought, Kreacher apparated back into the room. With him, he had in his arms an open can of tuna, and a plastic tub that looked like it was full of sand. Something clicked in Harry’s brain, which further solidified when the thing on his sofa raised its head hopefully and let out what was unmistakably a meow.

“Yes, a good little puss puss,” said Kreacher, scratching the kitten behind its ears with his long fingers as it stuck its tiny head into the can of tuna and began purring loudly. 

Harry stared. He knew his experience with cats was limited, but still, surely he wasn’t that wrong about one of the basic components.

“Kreacher, are you telling me this is a… a cat?” Harry asked. “ Because, er, I have noticed that it doesn’t have any fur.” Harry remembered Crookshanks leaving great piles of it all over his robes- Hermione had known clever spells to get it off before classes, but every once in a while he’d forgotten to check, and gone running about with great orange strands of hair clinging to him with intensity.

Kreacher shook his head, still gently scritching at the ears as the kitten purred and stuffed its face with tuna.

“Master Harry should know better,” he said in tones of reproach. “This is not to be a cat, but a kneazle. A finer, purer line Kreacher has never seen! Such a beautiful specimen- all that nasty kneazle fur that gets all over Kreacher’s lovely couches gone. A great work of breeding, as befits a noble beast.”

At this pronouncement, the noble beast in question decided it was done eating the tuna, and looked up again at Harry, who had not moved from his spot next to the couch since this whole debacle began. It had little flecks of tuna on its face, and was attempting to swipe them with a paw, and then eat them off the paw, all the while still purring in a low, soothing rumble. 

Kreacher continued his speech, still cooing to the kitten.

“A fine little beast indeed, who is eating to grow big and strong! What an example for others to follow, what an inspiration, yes. Kreacher does not mind that a kneazle kitten now lives in the house, oh no, of course he does not, but he does wish that perhaps he might have been informed before hand, so that he might make the necessary preparations- poor, good kitty, Kreacher does not even have a bed to offer in this trying time!”

Harry sighed. Some things had not changed, even with the improvement of his relationship with Kreacher.

“Kreacher, I promise you, if I was going to get a kitten, I would let you know. But it’s not mine. I didn’t know it was here. I didn’t even know it was a kitten, remember? I thought it might have been, er. You know,” said Harry, cheeks heating as he remembered his earlier mistake. 

Kreacher considered this, and appeared to accept it. He seemed to shrug, and then Harry felt the crackle in the air again that always heralded house elf apparition. 

“Wait!” blurted Harry. “Where are you going? What am I supposed to do with this kitten?” 

Kreacher looked at Harry, and shrugged again.

“Master Harry must do as he sees best, of course. Kreacher is not a kitten minder- Kreacher has soup to prepare. If Master Harry does not know what to do, then perhaps Master Harry needs to seek… outside resources,” Kreacher said. His face twisted somewhat, in a way that could only mean one thing. Kreacher had made remarkable strides, and Harry truly believed that he cared for Harry, and his friends, but the long indoctrination by the Blacks in their beliefs of pureblood supremacy meant that Kreacher had a hard time expressing certain ideas.

“Hermione,” Harry breathed, excited. “Of course! If anyone knows what to do with a random hairless kneazle kitten, it will be her.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no Draco in this one, but we edge ever closer! Soon, soon!

It turned out that Hermione did not know what to do with a random hairless kneazle kitten.

“Honestly Harry,” she said, sitting on Harry’s couch and stroking the kitten, which had curled up next to Hermione and appeared to have fallen asleep, “I’m not sure why you would think I know anything about what to do with a surprise kitten. I’ve had Crookshanks for, goodness, almost 13 years, and you were there when I bought him. You know I just grabbed him out of Magical Menagerie, and he was already an adult. I honestly have no idea.”

“Yes, sure,” said Harry, somewhat desperate, and still unnerved by the tiny hairless creature in his home, “But that also means you’ve had 13 years of kneazle experience. Maybe you could at least help me out with er, how it got here?” Harry said, his voice raising hopefully.

Hermione frowned, and fixed Harry with a pointed stare. Her dark eyes were narrowed, and her voice was full of disapproval, but she answered nonetheless.

“Well it’s obvious how she got here, Harry. She’s a kneazle- they have very strong but limited magical abilities. Most kneazles are capable of limited apparition, and highly trained kneazles can be taught to set wards. This is basic magical creature knowledge, Harry. You should know this by now,” she said in a stern voice. 

Her voice may have been stern, but Harry caught another glimpse of her expression through her long, dark braids as she leaned down to examine the sleeping kitten more closely. He thought she looked fairly charmed by the kitten, despite her initial protestations to the contrary.

“Yes, well, leaving my lack of kneazle knowledge aside, Hermione, you must have SOME idea of what to do. You always have an idea of what to do- it’s one of your finest qualities!” Harry said, giving her a winning smile. It hadn’t worked on Hermione since before they left Hogwarts, but Harry was feeling a little overwhelmed. His plans for the evening had definitely not included a surprise kitten.

“Also, she? How can you tell?” asked Harry.   
Hermione giggled, and lifted the sleeping kitten’s tail. Harry blushed and looked away- that was rather more of a cat’s genitalia than he’d ever seen before, and more than he’d really needed.

Hermioned laughed at his expression, and shook her head at Harry. Her expression was fond, and her whole body seemed relaxed. Harry loved seeing her like this- after the war, they’d all been so tired, so withdrawn, and it had been hard to be around each other, even as it was hard to stay apart. Hermione in particular had been drawn and gray- her hair had gone wilder than ever, and her skin had been flat and unhealthy. To see her like this, several years and who knew how many therapy sessions later, with her dark brown skin glowing, her hair neatly done up with one of the million braiding spells she’d learned after Hogwarts, was like a balm to Harry- even if she was being somewhat unhelpful with regards to his kitten.

“Harry, I’m sure you’re more than capable of handling this situation- you’re a fully qualified auror- one kneazle kitten is well within your capabilities! And besides, I can only stay for a moment- Ron and I have a date tonight, you know that. It’s Thursday! We always go out on Thursdays. Really, I only stopped in because you seemed like you were about to panic in the floo, and you seem much less frantic now, so I’m sure you can handle this,” Hermione said.

Harry sighed. He had flooed in somewhat of a panic, it was true. He was grateful to Hermione for coming over, but he did understand that she had a life outside of dealing with his issues. Sort of. That didn’t mean he had to be happy about it all the time. 

Hermione must have seen something of that in his expression, because she took pity on him and offered up a flurry of suggestions as she ,

“Look, ok, I still don’t really know anything about kneazles, but I know somewhere that does! Why don’t you go to Magical Menagerie and ask the man who works there? He must get his kneazles from somewhere, I’m sure he’d know at least who you can talk to. Also, kneazle breeding is a licensed profession, so you could probably look it up at the Ministry, which I know you know, because you were just complaining about writing a citation to an unregistered puffskein breeder last week, so you KNOW that magical creature breeders are registered! Anyway, I really must run, but again, I have complete confidence in you.”

With that final pronouncement, Hermione stood up, gave one last stroke and fond look to the sleeping kitten beside her, kissed Harry on the cheek, and stepped into the fireplace in an elegant swirl of grey robes and green flame.

This startled the kitten, who woke up, ambled over to the corner of the couch, and promptly began chewing on the leather. Harry could see her sharp little teeth begin to make dents in the corner of his couch, and decided that Hermione had a point. Reaching out, he scooped up the kitten, and held her at eye level. She squirmed, and let out a plaintive meow. Harry attempted to soothe her.

“There, there, kitten, it will be alright. We’re going to find out where you- ow! Bloody fucking hell!”

The kitten had decided that she was tired of being held, and had bitten Harry sharply on the hand, causing him to let go. When he let go, she promptly scaled his arm, digging what felt like hundreds of sharp, tiny needles through his robes and into his flesh. She managed to get all the way to his shoulder, where she seemed to be content to perch and nuzzled the side of Harry’s face, just a little bit. Then, ignoring Harry’s continued cursing, she curled up into a small ball, and went to sleep. 

Harry tried to crane his neck to look at his small, extremely sharp companion, and then decided he might as well make use of her willingness to stay in one place. He called out a quick goodbye to Kreacher, and strode out the door, grabbing his black cloak from the floor where he’d tossed it earlier. He cast a quick drying charm on the robe, a quick sticking charm on the kitten, and then turned and apparated directly to Diagon Alley.

***

The door to Magical Menagerie opened with a creak, and Harry was hit with the sounds and scents of a multitude of animals. Everyone seemed to be talking or hooting or wheezing at once, and Harry felt briefly overwhelmed, the way he did when he stepped into his office in the mornings and work. He almost turned around and left, but then the tiny warm body on his shoulder stretched and squeaked, and he realized he would be stuck at home with the kneazle, and no closer to finding a solution if he turned back now.

Putting a hand over the kitten to prevent any sudden or fearful leaps, Harry pressed into the store. Once inside, he found that the animal sounds weren’t quite as stressful as he had feared, and that they mostly formed a pleasant background noise as he walked into the shop. He was immediately greeted by the proprietor, a tall, round woman with smile lines and a mop of curly, frizzy hair. He was reminded of a weird cross between Hermione and Hagrid, and this thought made him smile.

“Mr. Potter!” boomed the owner, who had a nametag on her chest identifying her as Raz, “What a pleasure to see you! Have you come to purchase a pet? Or, no, it looks like you’ve got that covered! In for some kneazle supplies, eh? Those new hairless ones are quite the rage- I’ve been getting in some special orders just for them! All kneazles love our self heating line, but the little hairless ones especially appreciate it!” Raz pointed to a colorful corner that had what seemed to be far too much cat stuff for the physical space, with self-moving mice, wands, ropes, beds and baskets piled on top of trees and scratchers in all colors of the rainbow, many of which did indeed claim to be self-heating. Harry stared at a color-changing self-playing mouse, which squeaked and turned in circles and undulated between regular mouse color and every other color known to wizards, when he realized Raz was still waiting for an answer, and jerked himself back into the conversation.

“Er, no, thank you, I ah, actually was hoping you could help me with something else,” said Harry. “You see, this kneazle just kind of, er, showed up in my house, and I was hoping you might recognize her, or know where she came from. You said the hairless ones were new? Do you know who breeds them?” 

Raz beamed at Harry, and reached out to scritch the kitten on the cheek, who leaned into the affection and purred loudly at the contact.

“Oh, for the hairless ones, there’s only one breeder who really knows what he’s doing, and if the little one is magically powerful enough to be apparating into your home already, then I’d say it’s certainly one of his. Let me see, I’ve got his card somewhere, let me just pop back and get it for you, won’t be but a moment!” Raz swept out of the room, which felt deeply empty in her absence, only to sweep back in a moment later, holding a small business card that seemed to glow softly in the dim light of the shop. She handed it to Harry and then stepped back, beaming.

Harry took it, and noticed with interest that it was indeed glowing slightly, and that the parchment it was on felt thick and luxurious. He flipped it over to look at the information and almost dropped the card in his shock. In swirling, silvery ink, the business card read:

Kneazles, Inc, by D. Malfoy  
Purveyor of Fine Exotic Kneazles  
Known for Power, Quality, and Aspect  
To Excellent Homes Only

When he flipped the card over again, a floo address appeared where before there had only been a blank space. Harry stared harder, certain that he must be mistaken. There was no way that he was standing in a shop holding the floo address to Malfoy Manor.

He was jerked from his surprise by Raz’s booming voice once more. 

“If you’re looking to contact him, I’ve got a floo in the back. I don’t normally let customers use it, but I have a feeling you’d like to get this kneazle thing solved at once! Besides, my daughters’d be right put out if I let them know that Harry Potter was in my shop and I didn’t even offer him our floo! Please, Mr. Potter, right this way!”

Still not entirely sure he knew what was going on, Harry found himself led by a firm hand on his elbow to the back of the shop, where he found himself with a handful of glittering floo powder, a suddenly complaining kitten, and an enthusiastic Raz detailing the merits of the last kitten she’d had from Malfoy.

He didn’t recognize his voice, or the brown hand that reached out and threw the floo powder in as he called out “Malfoy Manor” and allowed the floo to whisk him away, ejecting him with a cough and a thump into the main room of a place he thought he’d never set foot in again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally- Draco! Still not earning that explicit rating, but I promise, we'll get there :) Also my chapters seem to be growing in length? I can't promise that this trend will continue, but I do plan to keep writing every day, and we'll see where that gets me!

Harry stumbled out into a large foyer with a flagstone floor. He began to sweat, recalling the last time he had been there. He felt the same desperation and panic begin to creep up on him, as if he were still a scrawny teen living in the woods, trying to survive. The panic swirled up, and he backed up, ready to jump back into the floo, when a warm, scratchy sensation on his temple caused him to pause.

The kneazle kitten was grooming him, sharp little tongue dipping in and out of her mouth as she rasped her tongue over the side of his face. Satisfied that his sideburn was clean, she clambered around onto the front of his robes, clinging to his chest and head butting his chin, before beginning an enthusiastic cleaning of his adam’s apple. 

The strangeness of it was enough to break him out of his panic. The war was over- Voldemort was dead, and the Malfoys hadn’t done anything in years. He knew- he still sometimes snuck into the archives to look at their files while at work. 

Reaching up, he put a steadying hand on the kitten. He’d been so overwhelmed by a disruption to his routine that he hadn’t really given as much attention to the kitten as perhaps she merited. Forcing his hands to be gentle, he lifted her off of his robes, and held her in front of his face, examining her.

His initial impression of large green eyes, big ears, and droopy skin were all still correct, and even now that he knew she was a cat (or kneazle) he still thought he couldn’t entirely be blamed for assuming she was a house elf. Her pink skin was warm and soft, and as he looked closely he saw that she had tiny, broken off whiskers on her face, and a smattering of hair up the center of her nose.

He reached out to touch the hair, and the kitten, which had been squirming slightly as he held her in the air, leaned into the touch and began purring. Harry realized something that had been hovering on the edge of his mind all afternoon- this kitten was extremely sweet, and honestly, in a weird way, rather cute.

Harry did not have much experience with cats (kneazles), or really with pets of any kind beside owls, but it struck him as rather odd that one would allow itself to be carted around for an entire afternoon, and still have the energy to purr and offer him comfort. It wasn’t so bad, really. He didn’t have the most interaction with Crookshanks, but he was certain Crookshanks would have reacted extremely poorly to many of the things Harry had subjected the little kitten to over the course of the day. Harry began to feel slightly guilty, and rubbed the kitten’s head a little more vigorously, to which she responded with louder purring. 

Sharp, clicking steps on stone interrupted Harry from his kitten related musings. He jerked his head up, and jerked the kitten back towards him as he realized that he was, in all likelihood, about to come face to face with Draco Malfoy.

Harry barely had time to feel stressed about meeting his former childhood nemesis when he actually took a good look at the figure who entered the room. There was no doubt that it was Draco, but it was a Draco that Harry had never imagined he would one day see.

Draco strode into the room like he owned the place (which he did, Harry reminded himself, they were in Malfoy Manor). His robes were impeccably tailored, and moved with him in a way that was incredibly eye catching and, probably, aided by magic. His hair was blond and shiny, his face curled into a sneer, and his gray eyes held no warmth for Harry Potter. In short, he looked every inch the intimidating, pureblood wizard Harry had always thought him to be, and the effect might have been quite successful in intimidating Harry now, were it not for one key detail.

An enormously fat, fluffy gray cat was cradled in Malfoy’s arms like a baby, purring loud enough that Harry could hear it across the room. With every step he took, she would reach up and bat at his chin, as if to chastise him for disturbing her repose, and with every touch of her paw, Draco Malfoy would glance down, and his eyes would crinkle up at the corners, just hinting at a smile.

Harry stared. It was hard to be intimidated by someone who was being chastised by a cat- or, well, probably a kneazle, given the business card that Harry still had clutched in his hand.

“Potter,” said Malfoy, coming to a halt in front of Harry. “What can I do for you-”

He was cut off by a frantic wailing and squirming from the cat in his arms, who at this point had gotten a good look at Harry and the kitten. The gray cat launched herself out of Malfoy’s arm directly at Harry’s face.

Harry panicked, but used his seeker’s reflexes to attempt a one-handed grab at the flying kneazle headed straight for his face. To his surprise, it somewhat worked, and he managed to squish the gray cat against his chest with one arm while not dropping the kitten in his other hand.

The gray kneazle let out a wail, which was matched by a squeaky meow from the kitten in his hand. After a moment more of squiggling, somehow Harry ended up with his arms full of large gray kneazle, who was frantically grooming the small kitten perched atop of it, purring loudly, and stopping only to growl occasionally at Harry whenever he shifted his arms.

Stunned, Harry looked up, trying to make sense of it all, only to remember that he was at Malfoy Manor, and that Draco Malfoy was right in front of him, so looking up meant eye contact with Malfoy.

Malfoy, Harry was pleased to see, did not look nearly as composed as before. His mouth was hanging open, and his eyes were wide and shocked. 

“Oh,thank Merlin,” he said, once he managed to close his gaping mouth. “Oh, Rowena, I know , sweetheart, I was worried too. Chrysanthemum is a naughty girl, isn’t she? Running away and scaring us like that!” Draco’s voice was warm, soft, and openly relieved. It took Harry a moment to realize that he was talking to the two kneazles currently in residence in his arms.

The warmth was gone from his voice as he looked up and met Harry’s gaze.

“Well, Potter? I suppose you’re here for the yearly inspection- I will say, when I got a card this evening, I didn’t think it would be quite so soon. And you didn’t have to kidnap one of my kneazles- I would have let you know, you know! And not that it seems you or the Ministry cares, but tonight is a sensitive night for us all, and we’ve been a little stressed, since Chrysanthemum has been missing for almost an entire day, at this point, and really, I don’t know that two hours is enough notice to get the kneazelry into shape! Not that I’m hiding anything, of course, but you must understand that kneazles require a good deal of care every day, and sometimes things get a little bit messy. But come on in! Why not! After all, they can’t just send anyone, oh no! The Boy-Who-Lived himself sent out on a standard licensing inspection, since of course we can’t trust big bad Malfoys. Which is to say-” Malfoy cut himself off with what looked like effort, and glared at Harry.

“Er, Malfoy, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not here for any inspection, and I didn’t, uhm, kidnap the kitten, I promise. She just showed up at my house this evening, and I didn’t know what to do with her, and the lady at Magical Menagerie gave me your card, and er, that’s pretty much the extent of it, right there,” Harry said, speaking softly so as not to jostle the two kneazles still cuddling in his arms.

Malfoy glared.

“A likely story, Potter. Chrysanthemum is only 9 weeks old- too young to even leave her mother. You’re telling me she just, what, apparated into your home? Kittens at this age are only capable of apparating around their residences, not into strangers’ homes!” As soon as he finished his sentence, a look of comprehension dawned on Malfoy’s face.

“Oh, bugger me, Potter, you live in that old Black place, don’t you?”

“Yes?” said Harry, feeling rather confused about the whole thing.

Malfoy sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, pushing it off his face.

“Grimmauld Place has a very similar magic to the Manor- they were connected shortly after I was born, since it was assumed that with all the main line in prison or disowned, the property would eventually come to me. Your godfather escaping and willing it to you put an end to that idea, which is fine, but something of the magic is still the same. I imagine she just got a little confused, and since the Black townhouse DOES still feel like the Manor, she just… misjudged. A little.”

Harry kept staring.

“So, you’re saying that this kitten-”

“Chrysanthemum” interrupted Malfoy. 

“Yeah, ok, Chrysanthemum, just wanted to apparate across the room and, what, missed? And ended up in my living room?” Harry’s voice was incredulous.

At the sound of her name, the kitten in Harry’s arms perked up, and stopped snuggling with the older gray cat (Rowena, apparently) and gave a sweet, friendly meow, a quick lick to Harry’s arm, and then went back to Rowena.

Malfoy glowered.

“She’s a highly advanced magical creature, Potter, but she’s still less than three months old! She’s still learning! Even you didn’t defeat the Dark Lord until you were a year old, so cut her some slack!”

Malfoy’s words echoed around the stone walls of the foyer. Malfoy was frozen, shocked by his presumption and realizing what exactly he’d just said. Harry himself was also shocked- he didn’t think anyone had ever said anything at all like that to him ever.

All at once, it was too much for him. The cats, Malfoy, the idea that he’d needed a year to work up to defeating Voldemort- Harry felt laughter bubbling up from within him, and before he knew it, he was doubled over, practically howling with laughter in the foyer of Malfoy Manor.

Malfoy was not immune to the mirth- it seemed Harry’s hilarity was catching, as he too smiled, and then gave an undignified sort of giggle that only set Harry laughing harder.

They got a few good moments of laughter in before Rowena decided that she’d had quite enough of this, and did not appreciate being shackled to a laughing maniac. Harry learned of her displeasure through the form of sharp, needle-like teeth sinking into the soft meat of his hand. With a yelp, Harry let go of both cats, and then, realizing that he’d tried to drop them in front of their owner, tried to scramble madly after them, still giggling to himself.

It turned out that he needn’t have bothered- there was a loud pop, and both cats apparated before hitting the floor- Rowena back into Malfoy’s arms, and Chrysanthemum back onto Harry’s shoulder.

Catching his breath, Harry spoke again.

“Really Malfoy, it’s ok. I’m not mad, and I’m not here to pass judgement on anyone’s abilities, kneazle or otherwise. I just wanted to ask you if you knew where she came from, and since it seems like she’s yours, I suppose I’ll just leave her here, and you can… get ready for your inspection? Which, again, I am not here for, I’m just here to return the kitten.” Harry tried to lift Chrysanthemum off the shoulder of his robes as a gesture of good faith, but she dug her claws in and refused to be moved.

“Oh, good grief- Chrysanthemum, claws in,” said Malfoy in a firm tone. At his command, the kitten stopped resisting, and Harry was able to lift her off his shoulder and set her on the floor next to Malfoy.

“Well Potter, in that case I suppose a thank you is in order. Please, see yourself out through the floo, and do keep us in mind if you ever have any kneazle-related needs,” said Malfoy in a brusque voice. He scooped up Chrysanthemum, and stood waiting for Harry to floo away.

“Yes, of course, I’ll just, er, go now, then,” said Harry. “Bye, Chrysanthemum, it was nice to meet you.”

At his words, she let out a plaintive cry, which he did his best to ignore as he stepped into the floo, calling out for Grimmauld Place. It was for the best, he told himself. He didn’t have time for a pet. His long hours at work kept him much too busy for anything of the sort.

As he stepped out of the floo in Grimmauld Place, ready to commence his previously planned evening of lying around doing nothing, he realized that those words, rather than being a comforting, were actually just really fucking depressing. Pushing those thoughts away, he toed off his shoes, and collapsed onto the couch. He needed to get some serious relaxation in if he was going to be ready to face work again the next day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, just a general disclaimer for the fic and for me as an author, I absolutely do not stand with Rowling's views on trans people. If you do, I'd honestly rather you went and read something else. Thanks! 
> 
> More Draco and his cats (I mean kneazles). And yes, my chapters are DEFINITELY getting longer.

Chapter 4

Harry’s alarm went off, as it always did, at six thirty am, before the sun was even thinking of peeking over the horizon. As he always did, he shut his eyes tight, and gave himself 2 more minutes of ignoring the harsh, beeping sound of his alarm. After the two minutes were up, his alarm clock began to emit a high pitched screaming noise, as it always did, and he had no choice but to get up and turn it off.

Harry shuffled into the en suite, brushing his teeth and accioing his work robes. They were brown, and while that was not in any way the robes’ fault, Harry resented them, and their drabness. It felt like a personal insult on the state of his drab life, that he needed to not only go to his drab job and spend time in his drab office, but he had to cover himself in the drab brown as well. It seemed like a bad omen.

Harry poked at the toast and eggs that Kreacher had laid out on the dining room table. Kreacher was bustling about in the kitchen, doing something, but every so often he would poke his head into the dining room, and to forestall his dark mutterings and warnings about masters who did not eat and would surely starve and waste away, he tried to make sure he was in the process of eating something whenever Kreacher appeared. This was not as successful as he had hoped it would be, because by the time he was shrugging on his outer robes and ready to floo to work, a quick peek into the kitchen saw Kreacher perched on a tall stool with an enormous peacock quill in hand, scribbling away at a letter. Harry groaned. It was definitely a letter to Molly Weasley- he’d be lucky if he escaped from this with just some enforced dinner invitations- she’d been hinting with an increasing lack of subtlety that she’d like to come stay for a few days, just to help him out a bit.

Putting this out of his mind, Harry stepped onto the front steps of Grimmauld Place and apparated to work.  
He arrived in the bustle of the auror’s office, which was already in full swing. Interdepartmental memos flew through the air, floo fires flared green around the edges of the room, and the low hum of conversation filled the air. 

Harry walked to his desk, which was just as he had left it the day before, covered in parchment, quills, and empty tea cups. 

Peering into his inbox, he saw that for once, he’d managed to make it in before the daily assignments. He sat in his chair, looked at the piles of paper around him, and abruptly decided that he could really use a cup of tea before getting started on the day’s (and previous day’s, and the day before that’s) work.

As he came out of the break room, steaming cup in hand, he almost ran into his boss, Head Auror Robards. It took all his elite auror training to keep his tea in his mug while not running headlong into his boss.

“Potter!” barked Robards. “Good! Just the man I wanted to see. We’ve got another inspection coming up, and I’m putting you on it. Have it completed by the end of my day, and for the love of Merlin, please make sure you ACTUALLY file the report on time. For once. Am I understood?”

Harry nodded, trying to give the impression of a bright, capable auror eager to serve, and not a terrified has-been who couldn’t file a report on time.

“Er, yes Auror Robards, I will get right on that. I just love a good inspection first thing in the morning…” Harry trailed off, and smiled weakly. He took a sip of his tea to cover his nervousness, but judging by Robard’s narrowed eyes, it didn’t work.

“Well, let’s get started on it then! Inspections wait for no auror!” With that last pronouncement, Robards slapped a piece of parchment into Harry’s chest, forcing him to juggle his tea to keep it from falling. This time, he was unable to prevent the inevitable, and tea sloshed over the rim of his mug, onto the brown robes.

“Well, fuck,” said Harry, to the empty corridor. At least the brown of his robes would hide the stain. 

That thought struck him as so pathetic that he looked down at the parchment in his hand just for a distraction. He winced. It had not escaped the sloshing tea either, and a very visible brown stain covered the bottom left corner.

When he read the paper, he began to laugh. It seemed like his day was doomed to be as awful as possible. His inspection scheduled for that day was for none other than Kneazles, Inc, Proprietor D. Malfoy.

Harry paused for a moment, briefly considered getting another cup to replace the one he’d spilled everywhere, and then decided against it. Best to get it over with all at once- like ripping off a bandaid.

***

For the second time in less than a day, Harry flooed into Malfoy Manor. This time, not distracted by a tiny kitten on his shoulder, and having had several hours to get used to the idea of Malfoy as a kneazle breeder, he was able to take a good look around.

The room was large, with a flagstone floor and stone walls. The walls were covered with rich tapestries in jewel tones, and there were many wooden doors with elaborate brass handles, all polished to the point of gleaming.

Harry looked around, not wanting to just start opening random doors, and found his attention drawn to the nearest tapestry. He looked at it, not really taking it in, until he realized what it was he was looking at, gave a snort of laughter, and looked around the room. All of a sudden, it was obvious. 

Every single tapestry in the entry way was of cats. They were not the sweet, saccharine cats that he remembered from Umbridge’s office, or even from Ms Figgs’ house, but they were still undeniably cats. Giant leopards lounging in trees, lions stalking the plains, tigers swimming in pools of water, and of course, kneazles. Kneazle borders around abstract tapestries, kneazle kittens hiding in gardens, kneazles fighting with giant harpies in another. Everything moved with slow, elegant grace, and Harry lost himself in watching the ripple of threads form pictures.

He was examining a rather gruesome scene of a calico kneazle disemboweling what looked distressingly like a Golden Snidget when he heard the sound of a door opening, and the crisp tak tak of fancy shoes hitting flagstones. He swirled around, embarrassed for no real reason that he could discern, and one again found himself face to face with Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, who was apparently a crazy cat man, along the lines of Umbridge or Ms Figg (in enthusiasm, if not aesthetic) and somehow, Harry had just never noticed.

“Potter, I see you are back in my home, for some reason. Did you forget something? Are you lost? I would be happy to lend you some of my floo powder, but please, be anywhere but here,” said Malfoy.

Before Harry could respond, a pitiful wail rent the air, and with a pop, Chrysanthemum the hairless kneazle kitten apparated onto Harry’s shoulder. She began to purr and rub her face frantically against his chin, and Harry realized that a) she was enjoying the rasp of his stubble against her skin, and b) the presence of said stubble meant that he had forgotten to shave that morning.

It was extremely gratifying to be greeted in such a way, and Harry felt that Chrysanthemum deserved a greeting in return.

“Hey girl,” he said, keeping his voice quiet. He didn’t really know how to talk to cats (kneazles) but he figured a soft voice couldn’t hurt. “It’s nice to see you too. How are you today?” Her only response was an intensification of her purring, and continued rubs on his face. He smiled, and stroked a finger down her back. He hadn’t really touched her before, not when he was paying attention, and he was startled at how soft she was. She had the tiniest dusting of hair over her soft, warm skin, and the way it stretched over her body felt weird, yet familiar. It was like a hot peach, or a piece of suede, or….

Harry had to stifle an unprofessional giggle as he realized that he was standing in Malfoy Manor, mentally comparing the feel of a hairless cat to that of an erect penis. It wasn’t a perfect match, of course, but the sensation of taut, warm skin sliding over something hard underneath- it was definitely enough to make the comparison spring to mind.

A loud, fake cough jerked Harry back to attention. He was still in front of Draco Malfoy, and what’s more, he was here on professional business. Auror Robards would want him to embody professionalism and respect, or whatever else it was he was always droning on about in staff meetings. Honestly, Harry usually spent those meetings imagining himself anywhere else, but he knew they were part of being an auror, so he attended, and only hated himself a little.

“Well, Potter? Do you admit it? Have you come to kidnap my prize kneazle and leave me destitute? What about our previous interaction made you think that you were welcome to drop in again?” Draco’s voice was sharp and clipped, his accent unbearably posh.

“Uhm, well, I actually am here about the inspection this time, Malfoy. The one you got a letter about yesterday? I am here to, er,” Harry paused, and consulted the tea-stained parchment in his hands, “Inspect the facilities, report on the health and well-being of all breeding and pet animals, and give my general conclusions about the renewal of your breeding license,” he read off the parchment. He was getting good at that. The first time he’d read it, he’d had no idea what he was supposed to be doing, and he’d stumbled something dreadful. A few more, and he thought he’d be able to ditch the paper completely, and just go by memory. “Look, I have a check list and everything. The first item is living quarters, so why don’t you show me where you keep them all?” Harry asked.

Malfoy frowned, but accepted this. With another enviable swirl of robes that had Harry wondering if dungeon living somehow taught Slytherins things about robe twirling, he stalked off towards one of the shiny wooden doors, and strode through purposefully. Harry, kitten still on his shoulder and purring madly, followed him.

The cat tapestries in the other room had not prepared him for what he saw as he stepped through the door. It was, to put it simply, a cat’s paradise.

Huge, live trees grew from the carpet, arching up to meet the ceiling. Where the branches touched the ceiling, they fused with the plaster to form intricate pathways upon which cats could run, with occasional cat beds sticking out for a nice spot for a nap, or dangly toys where a cat could bat at something shiny. Giant, rope covered towers soared into the air, with dangly bridges and clever wicker cubbies interspersed. Soft, plush looking beds and blankets lay draped about on every surface, and Harry could see on many of them the same self-heating charms that he’d glimpsed in the Magical Menagerie. A glittering pond full of magical koi gleamed in the center of the room, and hundreds of colorful, squeaking toys jittered underfoot. Enchanted butterflies flitted about, dancing and dangling just out of reach. 

At first, Harry was too awed by his surroundings to even see any cats (kneazles, he corrected himself. Malfoy would certainly not tolerate his kneazles being called “cats”). But as he adjusted to the room, he began to see them. They draped themselves on blankets, chased tiny objects around the floor, and generally looked like the spoiled, pampered pets that they almost certainly were. He recognized, now that he was seeing so many of them, that their larger size and tufted tails DID set them apart as kneazles rather than cats. He’d looked up the entry in Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them the night before, embarrassed by Hermione’s assertion that he should know that, and curious about his nighttime visitor. The sheen and luster on their coat was also somewhat magical- he was certain that cats did not have iridescent white fur that glinted in the light, nor did they come in magenta spots. He felt he could be forgiven for making a mistake with Chrysanthemum, who had once again curled up on his shoulder to sleep. She was a kitten, she was small, and she didn’t have ANY fur, let alone the characteristic tuft.

Harry had assumed that there would be as many kneazles as there were pictures of cats in the foyer, but as he scanned the room, he was surprised to see that there were only about half a dozen cats, not including Chrysanthemum. He recognized the fat gray kneazle from yesterday sleeping in a basket with a velvet pillow, and then there was the pink spotted one (hard to miss) stalking some butterflies, the iridescent one sharpening its claws on a rope tower shaped like a mushroom, a long haired calico that seemed to shift the location of her orange, black, and white portions of fur, and then two identical looking black cats that were closely curled together, sleeping, in an orb of wool that was hanging from nothing in the middle of the floor. 

Something about them caught his eye, and Harry walked over to get a better look.  
“Potter!” Malfoy barked. “Come away from there, and stop harassing my kneazles at once!” He sounded nervous. Harry became a little concerned. Was there something he didn’t want Harry to see? The cats looked well cared for, but maybe he was hiding something? Maybe it was all an elaborate glamor that would fall apart under scrutiny.

“Oh, stuff it Malfoy, I’m just looking. Uhm, I mean, as an official Ministry representative, I have the right to examine the animals as needed,” said Harry. Draco looked highly agitated, but nodded.

One of the kneazles must have felt Harry’s approach, because it yawned and stretched, revealing a delicate pink tongue and tiny, gleaming, pointed white teeth. It then blinked sleepily, and turned to look at Harry. 

Harry let out a short bark of laughter. The cat was, well, him. What had looked like an all black cat from a distance actually had several distinct markings. A pair of round spectacles were formed by white fur around the kneazle’s bright green eyes, and another patch of white fur formed a lightning bolt that looked identical to Harry’s own. He reached up and touched his own scar self consciously- it was was thing to see his scar in the mirror every morning, and quite another to see it recreated on a kneazle’s face. The weird Harry-kneazle opened it mouth and let out a rusty meow, which startled its companion, causing it to lift up its head and also blink at Harry. It had the same exact markings in white on its face- these cats were clearly identical twins.

Harry turned slowly, and looked at Malfoy, who was looking deeply embarrassed.

“So, I’m not hallucinating, right? Those kneazles are, uhm, me?” asked Harry.

Draco nodded, and sighed. 

“I suppose you have questions. Well, let’s do this properly. I’ll get us a cup of tea, and you can ask all the questions on your form, and I will tell you about the, er, Potteazles.” He turned away, snapping his fingers, causing a tea tray and various tea making supplies to fly out of a cupboard and towards a pair of overstuffed armchairs in front of a large fireplace that was nestled into a nook in thecorner.

“Potteazles,” said Harry under his breath, disbelieving. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for some Draaaacoooooooo

Malfoy fussed with the tea things for more time than Harry thought strictly necessary. He arranged the tea cups, measured the sugar incredibly carefully into his own cup, and then took a long time arranging the tea service to be juuust so on the low table in front of the two armchairs.

Harry crossed his arms and tapped his foot, impatient. He knew a stalling technique when he saw one. It helped a little bit that Malfoy was obviously nervous. It also helped that Chrysanthemum was still stuck to him like glue, and thought that the lace of his boot was the most amazing thing ever. It warmed him, to see her trying to untie his boots (which were, of course, spelled not to unravel), with her sharp teeth visible as she opened her mouth, tail lashing.

Eventually, Malfoy got tired of delaying with the tea things, or perhaps just ran out of possible tasks, and sat back into the cushy armchair, still nervous. His expression became more anxious as one of the two black cats with unusual markings (Harry’s brain rebelled at the idea of using the word “Potteazle,” even in the confines of his own head) had followed them over, and jumped into Malfoy’s lap, butting up at his hands with its uniquely marked face.

“Yes, yes, Godric, you’re a very good boy,” murmured Malfoy. He and the cat (apparently named Godric, which Harry honestly had no idea how to feel about) gazed at each other for a few moments, and then he reached an internal decision, and looked up at Harry.

“Forgive me, Potter. I understand it must be odd to see your face on a cat, but really, it’s not terribly personal. It mostly was an accident- as much as these things can be accidents. It was a few years ago, and I’d just turned 22, which meant my travel probation was over, and I was able to leave the country. I decided that I wanted to take a vacation, and so I went to the International Portkey Terminal and asked them for the first portkey out of Britain. That portkey just so happened to go to Minnesota, in the United States of America.

“Minnesota?” Harry interrupted. “Where’s Minnesota? Is it by New York? Or California?” He’d never been keen on geography, and Hogwarts hadn’t helped that, and he realized he had just listed almost his entire knowledge of the United States.

“Don’t interrupt me, Potter, it’s uncouth. And no, it’s not by New York, or California. It’s sort of in the middle, by Canada. They all talk very funny and eat a lot of cheese there. That is not the point, however. The point is, that I went there, and stayed for three weeks in a cabin on a lake, and I saw all sorts of strange and exotic creatures. I saw real live bald eagles, I saw and heard loons, even though I found them rather eerie, I saw a moose, and I also saw the animal that is possibly the second cutest in the entire world- the raccoon.” 

“Malfoy, how does your vacation have anything to do with why at least two cats are now wearing my face?” Harry interrupted, again. He’d asked for an explanation, and Malfoy was just confusing him with his talk of Minnesota and loons and moose and raccoons. Harry wasn’t entirely certain what a loon even was, other than an unkind name for someone not all there.

“Hush, Potter, I’m getting there. Anyway. The raccoon was particularly adorable, even if they did try to get into my trash, and I quite enjoyed watching them. I saw about seven of them up in a tree one night, and my lumos glinted off their eyes, and they have these cute little masks that cover their eyes, and anyway, I was quite charmed.” Malfoy took a sip of tea, and continued with his story, growing more confident as he spoke.

“Anyway, my three weeks in Minnesota came to an end, I portkeyed back to London, and then I sat alone in my house for about a year, being very very bored, doing nothing to change that and wasting my youth and my good looks- don’t laugh, Potter, this is my story, until my mother announced that there was no living with me anymore, and she was moving to Greece. 

“Naturally, as soon as she proclaimed this, I became somewhat desperately and embarrassingly lonely in addition to being bored, and while I would normally balk at telling you such a thing, you’ve already found out my most embarrassing secret, so I don’t feel like sparing you from some of my more mundane ones. Anyway, I was embarrassingly lonely, so I did what any sensible young man would do.”

“Er, went on a date?” suggested Harry.

“Good grief Potter, no, of course not. I got a kneazle. Or rather, I started researching breeders, so that I could acquire a kneazle. Anyhow, I went to see an elderly witch about a litter of gray kneazle kittens, and we got to talking, and then to writing, and what with one thing and another, I decided to breed my first litter.”

“And what, your first litter just happened to look like me? Malfoy, please, can you just get to the-”

“Potter, your ceaseless interruptions begin to irk me, and they reflect badly on the aurors as a whole, on Gryffindor house, and on your family, and I’m getting there. There I was, breeding my first litter, and of course, I dare say you wouldn’t know this about breeding kneazles, but unusual patterns are quite the done thing, and since we can use magic, we don’t need to do awful things like inbreeding, and it’s all quite safe, doesn’t harm the mother or the kittens, so we can achieve results much more quickly than a cat breeder could, for example, since our magic is interacting with the core of magic within the animal, and we know all about which charms are safe to apply when. 

“I wanted a really unusual pattern, something that would stand out, and be quite unique, and perhaps become my signature, so I thought of my time in Minnesota, and how much I loved raccoons, and I set out to recreate their masks, because they are adorable and I thought it would be very daring and dashing, to be known for selling kittens that look like Zorro.”

“Er, Malfoy, how do you know who Zorro is?” asked Harry, perplexed.

“Again, Potter, with the interruptions! As I was saying, I thought it would be dashing, and I was very excited for my first litter. However, when they were born, I was dismayed to find that none of them were wearing masks at all- they all had little pairs of spectacles on. At first, I was reminded of Professor McGonagall, and while I found them rather cute, I was more than a little terrified at the thought of owling her and asking if I could use her name to promote my kneazles, and not even sure if people would want that, because frankly, she’s a terrifying teacher, if very competent, it might just feel like your kitten was going to take points off at any given moment. Anyway, I was working up the courage to send an owl to her when Pan- I mean someone, a friend, an acquaintance, no one you know, I’m sure, came over and pointed out that they looked rather like a certain Boy-Who-Lived, especially as I’d been breeding for green eyes.” 

Harry snorted. So Pansy Parkinson was somehow involved- he couldn’t bring himself to be surprised. After the dust had settled from the war, she’d owled him wanting to meet, he’d gone out of morbid curiosity, and while she’d clearly intended to make a show of apologizing to him in a public location, she ended up bursting into tears midway through, dragging him into a broom cupboard at the Leaky Cauldron, and weeping onto his shoulder for a while, before making a more private, but much more sincere apology, and then threatening to hex him if he ever revealed her indiscretion, as she called it. Now they meet up for drinks in muggle London every few weeks and bitch about whatever is going on in their lives, but Malfoy clearly isn’t aware of this. Although, she’s never said anything about Malfoy to Harry either, so she’s obviously been keeping things from him as well.

Malfoy continued, oblivious to Harry’s internal musings.

“As you may have cause to remember, this was right when the Ministry announced that they were going to have the first annual Harry Potter Day, and the magical world lost their fucking minds. Everyone was selling Harry Potter merchandise- you couldn’t walk down Diagon Alley without seeing at least a dozen carts selling the latest and greatest product with your face on it. I think at one point I was offered a two-for-one deal on toilet paper with your face on it.”

Harry cringed. He did remember that- it had not been a good time in his life. He’d been on his second break from Auror training, after Ron had dropped out, and Hermione had been… not well. Her depression had her barely getting out of bed, and Harry and Ron had been sort of caring for her in shifts, except then Harry’s anxiety had spiralled out of control, so it had just been him and Hermione staying in and not doing anything, her out of apathy and him out of intense fear. Ron had been their rock- and as such, he’d tried to keep the talk of Harry Potter Day to a minimum, because he knew how much it upset Harry. He remembered the run up to that event, but only through a cloud of stress and anxiety. It really had not been a good year.

“It was after the toilet paper thing that I realized I was sitting on something that people might actually WANT. I sent out a few inquiries to Magical Menagerie, because I know she finds good homes for kneazles, and she said she would absolutely take some Harry Potter themed kittens. Well, they sold immediately, even with the screening that I required before my kittens go to a home, and people were clamoring for more. As I’m sure you know, kneazles cannot be bred too quickly, so I was prepared to let this opportunity pass me by, when I received a call from the original witch who’d gotten me into breeding in the first place. She was looking to retire, and wanted to rehome her breeding pairs, and she had a pair of pregnant kneazles who were ready for their Aesthetic Charms, and I figured- what the hell. Here was my chance to make a mark on kneazle breeding- I’d be a fool not to take it.

“Since I’d already figured out the round glasses, and since eye color charms are a snap, I only needed to configure the charms for the scar, which turned out to be a moment’s work. Since I had two mothers to work with, I decided to get a little wild- I tried some charms on one batch to get them to have little maroon and gold striped tie marking on their chests, and on the other I wanted a golden snitch to flutter on the belly. That charm used to be quite popular, but it had fallen out of favor, so I was quite sure at least one of the litters would be successful.

“Then, of course, they had a truly ridiculous amount of kittens. The one with the snitch charm gave birth to 13 kittens, and the one with the ties gave birth to 17 kittens. All of a sudden, I had 30 Potter-themed kneazles, and a waiting list of over 100 witches, wizards, and magic users clamoring for one of my kittens. Raz helped me advertise, helped me screen the clients, and I was so touched, and so grateful, that I told her that if she wanted one, it was hers. She accepted, and one of her daughters started calling it their “Potteazle.” I thought it was fucking funny, actually, so I went to the Ministry, registered the name and coloring, and then set about finding homes for my kittens. The charms turned out beautifully, so I had two sorts to choose from, but sometimes, in litters with lots of kittens, there isn’t quite enough magic to go around, and from each litter, there were these two- one little black boy without a snitch, and one little black boy without a tie. Also, they were very little, and sometimes didn’t get enough milk, so I supplemented them with bottles, and then since they weren’t quite as interesting as the others, I decided I might as well keep them.”

Malfoy’s tone was smooth and unemotional, but Harry did not miss the crinkle in the corner of his eye, and the twitch at the side of his mouth as he looked at the purring kneazle (Potteazle) in his lap, and the other still sleeping in the floating wool orb. Despite himself, Harry found it rather… sweet, that Malfoy had had to bottle feed two kittens, and then been unable to sell them off. It was obvious he cared for them a great deal. Which did not entirely make up for him putting Harry’s face on a bunch of cats (kneazles), but it was still rather sweet.

Malfoy seemed to mistake Harry’s moment of embarrassed contemplation about the sweetness of Malfoy as a sign of anger, because he started babbling.

“Ok, so look, maybe it wasn’t entirely accidental, but really, it’s harmless. Honestly, wouldn’t you rather have your face on a sweet little kneazle than on a bath towel? Or those bags of popcorn that has the kernels popping into the shape of your head? Kneazles are sweet and intelligent creatures, very brave, it’s really a compliment when you think about it. And also, it’s not your whole face, just a couple key features, really. And honestly, it would have been easy to make some sort of commentary about your hair, hair lengthening charms are a snap, and I’m sure I could have worked out for it to stand up on end, but really, I didn’t, and so there’s very clearly no need to be mad!” Draco gave a thin smile with those last words, clearly not believing them even as he spoke them.

“I’m not mad,” said Harry, and he was shocked to find that it was true. He wasn’t mad. The Potteazles (uggh) were honestly kind of cute, and Draco was right, they were a lot better than any of the other merchandise with his face on it. He hadn’t known about the toilet paper before today. Or the popcorn. “I’m a little disappointed though. I wish people would ask before putting my face on things, kneazles included.” Hermione had a lot to say about copyright and the magical world- Harry was sure that in a few years, she’d have the laws needed passed, and that his face would no longer be fair game to anyone looking to make a quick galleon. Causes were absolutely Hermione’s love language.

Malfoy actually looked ashamed at Harry’s words.   
“I know. It’s honestly not very fair. I didn’t give you a choice, and I should have. I just wanted to make my mark on the industry so badly, but it’s all just witches and wizards and magical people who’ve been doing it for thousands of years, and never want to see anything new, or anything different, and they hardly ever issue invites to their cat shows. Honestly, I got extremely lucky with this idea, and with the retirement of Brunhilda, who cared more about the health and safety of her kneazles than she did about tradition, for which I am forever thankful. I’d actually thought about sending you a card, but that would have meant admitting what I’d done, and I was pretty sure you didn’t know, or I thought you would have said something. And back in school, I told myself that I wasn’t like the rest of them, that I saw you just as a person, not as some big magical hero, but then the second it was convenient for me to do so, I capitalized on your big hero-ness. And I hate that, and it makes me doubt myself, which I also hate, and I don’t like hating. So, in conclusion, I’m sorry.” Malfoy looked rather cross, but the apology seemed sincere enough. His nose went pink, which Harry remembered from Hogwarts as a sure sign that Malfoy was embarrassed.

Before Harry could respond to this, Malfoy was talking again. Harry was starting to wonder how he’d never noticed what a chatterbox Malfoy could be.

“Anyway, along with my apologies, I would like to extend an invitation to the Annual Kneazle Fancier’s Show and Gala. After all, it is quite literally due to you and your face that I am even invited, and I am permitted a guest, and it would be my very great honor if you would attend with me, to show you my sincerity in my apologies, and also to give you an introduction to the very great world of kneazle breeding.” Malfoy almost managed to get through his speech without incident, but he couldn’t seem to stop the scowl that crossed his face as he forced himself to actually invite Harry to his fancy kneazle party.

“Er, ok, sure,” said Harry.

“Let me assure you that this is in no way- wait. Did you just agree?” asked Malfoy, who had been about to launch into another attempt to sway Harry into going.

“Uhm, yeah. I don’t know much about Kneazles, but uhm. Sure. I’ll go,” said Harry.

“Great!” said Malfoy, his voice higher pitched than normal. “Wonderful! I’m thrilled to take you. I’ll just, ah, send along the details by owl, shall I?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Listen, Malfoy, uh, something’s come up, and I think I’ll need to finish this inspection later. I’ll see you, uh, tomorrow, I guess?” Harry said. He was already standing up, and picked up a sleeping Chrysanthemum out of his lap and into the chair, careful to avoid waking her.

“I know where the floo is, I’ll just see myself out, and, uh, thanks for the invite! See you tomorrow, must run!” Harry ran from the room back to the foyer, where he threw in a fistful of floo powder, and called out “The Roost!”

He stepped into Hermione and Ron’s living room, and yelled, “Hermione! Help! I’m going to fancy kneazle ball with Draco Malfoy, and I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

“Hermione’s out, mate, but what’s this? Why don’t you sit down and tell me all about it?” Ron’s curly head popped up over the sofa, where he was lying in his boxers, reading a battered copy of “Dazzlingly Delicious”, a popular baking magazine.

Harry groaned. He was so not ready for this, but his Gryffindor bravery did not fail him, and he stepped fully into the room, and prepared to have a conversation with Ron about his feelings. Uggh.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today, but I felt like it was a really natural stopping point. Enjoy!

“So,” said Ron, who had listened with great patience as Harry had struggled to explain what he’d just experienced, “Malfoy spilled his guts to you, apologized, and then invited you to a fancy kneazle party. You said yes, and then panicked, and flooed straight here. That sound about right?”

Harry nodded.

“So it seems to me like we have two options here. You can send your regrets to Malfoy, tell him you can’t actually go, so sorry, whatever, or we can maybe have a little chat, and see if we can’t figure out why you said yes. Or why you panicked, either one. I’m not fussy.”

Harry stared at his hands. Ron had grown up secure in the knowledge that his family loved him, even if he felt a bit overshadowed, and it showed. He’d never really gotten Harry’s rabid, anxious desire to belong, and to have someone care about him. However, a bizarre little voice in Harry’s head that sounded like Ron himself, told Harry that Ron never WOULD understand if Harry didn’t make the attempt and use his words to tell him. He could at least try. Ron would like that.

“Well, it’s just that he apologized, and then he asked,” said Harry, still looking at his hands. “Everyone in the whole world uses my face, and they act like it’s not a big deal. They don’t apologize, they don’t ask, they just have their Harry Potter bars, and their glasses, and their posters, and they act like I’m supposed to be happy about it.

Ron nodded. Harry took a deep breath, and continued.

“Malfoy… he did the same thing, too. He just used my image, and he didn’t ask. But then he knew I would hate it, and I do hate it, a little, even if I’m not really made. I hated it, and he knew that, and he apologized, and tried to make it up to me. Granted, he was very rude, and I don’t really care about the kneazles, and he still used my face like everyone else, but… he knew I’d hate it. And I just felt… seen.”

Harry felt all hot and uncomfortable. The desire to stand up and leave on any pretext was very strong. He ignored the roiling in his gut and stayed where he was, examining his nails as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world.

Ron’s large, warm hand came down on his shoulder, and squeezed once. Harry shut his eyes, embarrassed to feel the prickle of tears. 

“It’s good to be seen, mate. Nothing wrong with wanting that,” said Ron. He squeezed Harry’s shoulder once more, and then took his hand away, but put his arm around the back of the couch so he was still near Harry. Harry liked that. He didn’t know if he could handle all the emotions and physical contact, but it was nice to know that Ron cared enough to be near. He looked up from his hands, and found Ron was smiling at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He was still wearing his boxers.

“Oi, why are you in your pants? It’s nearly noon!” asked Harry.

“Well, I’m not like you and Hermione, am I,” said Ron, settling deeper into the couch. “Haven’t got a job to go to, so I’ve got nothing to do but lay around and think about what I’m going to make for dinner tonight. “‘S’not so bad, being a kept man. You might want to try it sometime, find yourself a bloke to settle down with, someone who’ll go to work every day and you can lounge at home in whatever you fancy.”

Harry snorted. Ron’s unwavering support in the face of his (numerous, potentially ongoing) sexuality crisis had been the best shock of his life. 

“But hey, if you want to back out of the gala, just send an owl. Say you don’t want to go. But if you do still want to go, well,” Ron paused, and appeared to consider how best to say something. “There are worse people to spend time with than someone who sees you for you. Just make sure that there aren’t, ah, other underlying issues that you don’t want to deal with.”

“Are you talking about racism?” asked Harry, curious.

“Yes,” said Ron, relieved. “I am, in fact, talking about racism. Thank you, Harry, I’m still working on giving it its proper name, like Hermione tells me. Because I don’t think you’ll have much fun, if you have to constantly worry about what he’s thinking, if he’s looking down on you for your parents, for having a muggleborn mum or an Indian dad.”

“Ack,” said Harry. “What am I thinking? The Malfoys are the most racist wizards I know- I can’t possibly go anywhere with him! You’re right, I should just cancel.”

“Now, I didn’t say that, Harry. Just, and hear me out, I know it sounds crazy- maybe you could talk to him? And yes, I know, stiff upper lip and all that, but we just had quite a lovely conversation about our feelings and everything, and we’re both fine, aren’t we?” said Ron. “Maybe even came out a bit for the better! This conversation lark is incredible, really.”

Harry laughed.

“Alright, alright. You win. I will attempt to talk, to Draco Malfoy, about whether or not he hates me and everyone I love and am related to. But when it all goes pear shaped, you’re the one I am absolutely blaming.”

Ron grinned, pleased.

“Yeah, that’s fine, I’m ready to take the responsibility for that. Hey, want to grab lunch before you go?”

Harry was surprised to find that he DID want lunch, and he followed Ron into the kitchen. Maybe it wasn’t too terrible, talking to Ron. And Ron might have a point- he did feel better than when he’d come in. Talking. Who knew?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Chapters are probably going to be a bit shorter from here on out, because I need to spend my writing time working on my thesis, and not on writing about wizarding catteries. That being said, I plan to still update frequently- just with slightly shorter chapters so that I can make sure I get my masters degree on time! Wheeee hope you enjoy!

Talking to Draco was a scary prospect. Harry returned to his office, full after his lunch with Ron, and decided that in some cases, Gryffindor bravery was overrated. He sat down with his favorite quill, and wrote a note to Draco. 

After a brief moment of paralysis where he could not decide how to head the letter, Harry began to write:

_ Malfoy, _

_ I apologize for running out on you earlier. Sometimes I have bad days and things are hard. Since we are going to an event together, I would like to get to know you a little better. What have you been up to since the war ended? Also, do you still hate muggleborns? What about British wizards from India? _

_ I know this letter is terribly blunt and straightforward, but if I have to think of a way to phrase this nicely then I don’t think I’ll be able to send it.  _

_ ~Potter _

_ PS- Say hi to Chrysanthemum for me. And I guess also to the rest of the kneazles. _

It was an awful letter, with no class or grace or clever turns of phrase, but after half an hour of staring at his terrible letter, he decided that he didn’t care. He found the nearest available Ministry Owl, and sent it on his way. He did his best to forget about the letter, and even went so far as to start filling in the pile of forms on his desk in an attempt to forget about it.

One form, however, stood out to him, lying in a malevolent manner on his desk. It was the form he’d promised Robards he’d fill out in a prompt manner (for once) on the status of Malfoy’s Kneazlery inspection. Which, of course, Harry had not finished.

He scanned the questions on the report- some of this, he could answer, but most of it hadn’t been covered. In fact, as he read the report he was supposed to file, the only part of the report he could fill out was the first section: Name of owner.

He scribbled in “Draco Malfoy” and decided that that was quite enough effort for one go. He spent the rest of his day at work jumpy and irritable, ignoring his coworkers and keeping his head down. The pile of papers on his desk was visibly smaller when the clock finally struck five, and he threw down his quill, grabbed his cloak, and apparated to the steps of Grimmauld Place at once. 

Once in Grimmauld Place, he discovered he had not one, but three owls waiting for him on the front porch. They stared at him as he popped into existence. It was very disconcerting.

“Er, alright,” said Harry, confused by their presence and a bit intimidated by so many large, yellow eyes all focused on him, “I suppose you lot had better come in then.” He opened the door to Grimmauld Place, and the three owls swooped in alongside him, before dropping their letters on the floor, and then turning and flying back out the door, into the cool twilight. 

Harry watched them for a moment, and then closed the door. He picked up his letters, and saw that while one was indeed from Malfoy, he had one letter from Ron, and another from Hermione. Considering he’d just seen Ron at lunch, he had no idea what this letter was about. Deciding he’d tackle that one first, he opened it and had a series of glossy photographs fall into his hand, along with a short note in Ron’s distinctive scrawl.

_ Before you say I didn’t tell you- I did tell you! Sort of. Hermione says it was rude to set you up like that, but I really do think talking about things will be good. Try not to be a stalker again. Enjoy! _

Perplexed, Harry looked down at the photos, and froze. They were all a series of photos of Ron, Hermione, and… Draco Malfoy. They were also all muggle photographs- none of them were moving. There was Ron and Draco in what looked to be a bowling alley, Draco glaring at a pitcher of beer and Ron laughing, Hermione and Draco in the British Museum, standing in front of some sort of sculpture, Ron with his arm around Draco while they posed with gigantic hot dogs on sticks in- Harry squinted, because yes, that was a large sign that said “Minnesota State Fair.” Hermione and Draco cooking, and then one of Draco, surrounded by his cats, laughing at something off the edge of the frame.

Harry had no idea when all this had happened. He set the photos aside for a minute, too stunned to really process it, and opened the letter from Hermione next.

_ Dear Harry, _

_ Ron told me about your lunch today, and how he told you talk to with Draco. I really do think that’s a good idea, but I also think it was rude of Ron not to let you know that this had been going on with us when we had the same questions, and had already gotten our answers.  _

_ I’m sure you have a lot of questions- I don’t know that I can answer them all in a letter, but it feels like a good time to come clean. I’ll try to say as much as I can now, and I’ll come over later if you want to process more. _

_ Draco and I re-met a few years ago. He apologized, in a way that made me feel he was sincere, I accepted, and we moved on. I didn’t really think anything of it until a couple of years ago, when he came to me, saying he needed my help in my capacity as Jr Department Head of the Department of the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures. He had some suspicions about another member of the Kneazle Breeders Association, suspected that they had unsafe conditions for their kneazles, but no proof. We worked together for a while, strictly off the books, since I couldn’t move forward in an official capacity without proof, and the other Association members all want to protect their own, and we just… got to know each other. He would come over for dinner, and he and Ron at first were hissing like, well, kneazles at each other, but then it came out that Draco owns season tickets to the Cannons, and, well, it just sort of went from there. When we wrapped that whole thing up (and yes, they were abusing those poor kneazles, it was well done of Draco to come to me with his suspicions) we found we didn’t want to disrupt the pattern of spending time together that we’d started. We’ve been friends for about a year now- we didn’t tell you because you were doing so well, and I suppose we wanted to protect you, but I think also we were just scared of what your reaction would be, and we didn’t want to rock the boat, as it were. For that, I am sorry- you’re an adult, and we should treat you like one. I hope you can forgive us- I really think Draco has changed. He’s not the same person he was in school. Also, honestly, Ron should have told you all this at lunch- sometimes that man schemes worse than Dumbledore! _

_ Let me know if you need anything, Harry- Ron and I are here for you. _

_ Love, Hermione _

The letter, the photographs- it was painting a very real picture of someone that Harry didn’t know at all. It didn’t align with the cranky, unhappy Malfoy who’d greeted him at the floo yesterday, but maybe it made a bit more sense when he thought of Malfoy apologizing, and extending the invitation to the kneazle gala.

Harry put the letters and photographs down carefully on the table next to his couch, and sat down, Malfoy’s letter in hand. He slid his finger under the fancy wax seal to open it, and then dropped the letter on the couch, and stood back up. If he was going to read a letter from Malfoy, he could at least enjoy a nice beer while doing so. Malfoy’s letter could wait until he was properly armed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fairly short, but that will probably be my norm for a while. Enjoy!

Armed with a bottle of Mercurio’s Fizz-Filled Blonde Ale, Harry returned to his couch and picked up Malfoy’s letter. He didn’t know what to expect, and his head was still reeling from the revelation that Malfoy had been friends with Ron and Hermione for all this time. Good enough friends that they’d somehow managed to take an overseas trip together- and he hadn’t noticed!

He grit his teeth. He trusted Ron and Hermione, he did- but it was hard. He had to see it for himself. With that thought, he opened the letter, and began to read.

_ Harry, _

_ When I received your letter, my first reaction was to be angry. How dare you send me such a note, questioning me, after all the work I had put in to make myself a better person, after I’d ripped myself into pieces, to change the very core of my beliefs? I was hurt, and that hurt led to anger. _

_ Then, I took a moment to calm down, and I thought, and I realized- it is not on you to figure out that I am no longer the person I was at 17. Or 16, or 15, or, well, any age, really, when we’ve spent any amount of time together. I was parroting the beliefs of my parents, and while I understand that this is not an excuse, and I take responsibility for my actions, I recognize that it deeply shaped who I was, and who I thought was worthy of my time. For my own actions, for my words that harmed you- I apologize. _

_ I understand that you may not be willing to take this apology at face value. After all, the only time we’ve met in the past 5 years, you’ve found out that I’ve been profiting off of your image- not exactly a sterling reunion. However, I hope that you will give me the opportunity to show you that I have changed- both at the Annual Kneazle Fancier’s Show and Gala, and maybe even in a more personal setting. It seems we have a few mutual friends these days- it would be nice if we could run into each other sometime and be able to be in the same space without fighting. I think we did a fairly good job the other day. _

_ This letter has been very difficult to write- I understand that yours was as well. I hope in the future our correspondence can be, if not easier, then at least a good deal more pleasant. _

_ Yours, _

_ Draco Malfoy _

  
  


Well. That had not been what Harry was expecting. He sat back, and let the letter drift to the floor from his hands. He tipped back into the soft couch and let his head loll on the cushions. He could already feel his decision about what to do regarding the letter and the gala bubbling up inside him. It looked like he was going to… give Malfoy a second chance.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More kneazles! I hadn't forgotten about them- people just needed to do some talking. But now it is time for all the cats!

Harry woke, startled. He’d gone to bed after reading the letter, laid wide awake pondering the nature of change, and eventually drifted off. It was still dark out, his alarm was not going off, and at first, Harry was confused as to why he’d awoken. 

As he lay in the dark, confused, hoping he’d be able to get back to sleep, he felt something on his left thigh. He yelped, rolled off the bed, and scrambled for his wand. He found himself in a heap on the floor, looking up into the bright green eyes of Chrysanthemum.

She cocked her head, looking at him on the floor, and Harry got the distinct sense that she was judging him. Great, just what he needed, to be found wanting by a kneazle. He lifted himself up off the floor, and checked his alarm clock. 3 am. 

“Well, Chrys,” he said, voice still rough with sleep. “You are absolutely not supposed to be here, but since it’s 3 am, do you want to stay the night? I’ll bring you back first thing in the morning, how’s that sound?” Chrysanthemum tilted her head the other way, as if considering him. Her eyes really were a very pretty shade of green.

He waited, and then realized he was waiting for a kneazle to respond to him, and blushed. It was the first step towards becoming a crazy cat man, he knew it- but it seemed rude not to talk to her, and they WERE supposed to be highly intelligent…

“Well! I’m glad we’ve got that solved. You can stay the night, but I’m quite tired, so I’d like it if we slept. What do you think? Do you want to take a nap with me before we return you home?”

She let out a chirp, and ran across the bed to where he’d been laying before. He got back into bed, and slid under the covers. He had some vague expectation of her lying by his feet, like he’d seen dogs do in television at the Dursleys. To his great surprise, she came right up to his face, and wriggled her way under the covers, curling up in a tight little ball with her head on the pillow, and her back pressed along his neck and shoulder. She was warm, and soft, and as soon as she had arranged herself to her liking, she began to purr.

Harry had anticipated having trouble drifting off again after having woken once, but was determined to try. Chrysanthemum’s warm, steady presence was soothing, and her purring seemed to vibrate through his whole body. He thought he understood the purpose of a kneazle, if they were this pleasant all the time… He drifted off to the sound of Chrysanthemum purring, feeling content.

***

Waking for the second time that morning was much more pleasant. He managed to be up slightly before his alarm, and he lay awake, enjoying the feeling of being warm and toasty while the air was cold outside his bedroom. He also enjoyed the warm weight of Chrysanthemum, who was still curled next to his body.

He reached up with a tentative hand and scratched her head, just a little. Her eyes opened, and she let out a sleepy, “mrrrrt,” and then stretched, tiny claws extended from her webbed paws. Harry chuckled, and she looked at him, and blinked slowly. Her tiny face exuded sleepiness, but he felt her rumbling purr start up again. He leaned in and kissed her on the nose, and then froze. He could not be getting attached to this kitten. She was not his. Chrysanthemum belonged to Draco Malfoy, and he had to give her back.

With a sigh, he leaned back from the kitten (whose purring had intensified upon being kissed) and went through his normal, boring morning routine. Somehow, it was a bit nicer with company, even if she mostly just blinked at him, and once tried to bat at the trailing sleeve of his robe as he struggled to get it on.

Once he felt he had everything tucked into the right places, he could no longer put off his morning errand. He picked up Chrysanthemum, who immediately scrambled up his robes to perch on his shoulder like a weird, wrinkly parrot. That was fine. She was easier to transport that way.

He walked downstairs, ignoring Kreacher, who was muttering dark things about breakfast, and went straight to the fireplace. He’d grab something to eat at work, probably. If he had time. He grabbed the floo powder and yelled “Malfoy Manor” before stepping into the green flames. He was careful to keep a gentle hand on Chrysanthemum, to ensure that she didn’t fall off on the ride.

The stone entry chamber was almost familiar now, as he stepped into it for the third time. Once again, he wasn’t sure if he should wait, or try and find someone? The idea of traipsing around Malfoy Manor unsupervised did not appeal, but neither did just putting Chrysanthemum down and leaving. He looked around at the doors to see if he had any clues, when he felt a weird tingling along his skin, emanating from the shoulder Chrysanthemum was perched on. He barely had time to wonder what was happening before he heard a loud “pop!”

He felt the squeeze and tug of apparation, and remembered what Draco had said about Chrysanthemum being able to apparate within her home. Apparently that extended to side-along apparation. He was impressed, but also, hoped he didn’t get splinched.

They reappeared in another room with huge ceilings and stone floors. It was the dining room, with a large table that ran the length of the room, and was currently weighed down with what looked like dozens of breakfast dishes. They smelled wonderful. Harry’s stomach growled.

At the head of this table sat Draco Malfoy, but not the Malfoy Harry was used to seeing. This Malfoy was wearing striped flannel pajamas, covered by a long silk dressing gown in deep blue. His mouth was open, and a cup of tea halfway to his mouth as he stared at Harry. For once, Harry found this quite reasonable- he’d just apparated into the man’s breakfast with no warning.

“Er, hello,” said Harry, and then stopped, because his brain finally caught up with what his eyes were seeing.

Every single one of Draco’s six kneazles from Harry’s previous visit was sitting in a chair at the table. They all had tiny little bowls in front of them, filled with various types of fish and meats and other proteins- Harry thought he saw one of the Potteazles eating a hard boiled egg. Each of the kneazles had their own place setting, and the chairs they were sitting in were all adjusted to be the appropriate height for a kneazle to eat off the table while sitting in the chair.

Harry could not stop staring. Was it a normal thing to have kneazles eat at the table with wizards? He wished he’d done more history reading- he was certain Hermione would know. 

Tearing his gaze away from the spectacle of the kneazles eating like people, he turned back to Malfoy, who had lowered his tea cup and was now blushing. 

“Uhm, hi, Malfoy, I just came to return Chrysanthemum. She showed up at around 3am last night, and I figured it was late, so I let her, um, stay the night. I hope you don’t mind. And then I just flooed in, but uh, she had other ideas, and once we got to the foyer she side-alonged me here. Anyway, I’ll just return her and then be off, I’d hate to keep, uh, all of you from your breakfasts.” He looked at the kneazles again, and saw that the pink spotted one was rubbing its face on a napkin. Surely, that wasn’t normal kneazle behavior. Harry felt extremely awkward, but also unable to look away, or to move. He caught another whiff of breakfast- his stomach growled, audible in the quiet room.

“Oh, do sit down and have breakfast, Potter. You’re a guest of Chrysanthemum, and that’s good enough for me, I suppose. And I, um,” Malfoy blushed even harder, his cheeks stained bright red, “I meant it what I said, in my letter, about showing you that I am different from what I once was. Might as well start with breakfast.”

Harry walked toward the table and sat down in an unoccupied chair. How did this keep happening? He kept agreeing to things around Malfoy, and it wasn’t that he didn’t want them, but they were entirely unexpected.

He snuck a glance at his host, who had turned back to his tea. Breakfast had clearly just started, and Malfoy, apart from being in his pajamas, had rumpled hair, and the soft expression of someone who was still waking up. Malfoy looked up from his tea, and they made eye contact, and then both looked away at once. It was shaping up to be a very awkward breakfast.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh you guys! This fic has fanart! I am definitely feeling #blessed. Check out the related works to see the absolutely INCREDIBLE drawings of Chrysanthemum and the Potteazles :D I am not sure what I did to deserve these gifts from such an amazingly talented and attractive human, but I gotta hope I keep doing them! Things I have learned from this pandemic: flirt with cute girls- it leads to fanart for your fic. Hope you all enjoy!

Breakfast was awkward, but not unbearably so. It became clear to Harry that Malfoy was not in his element, and he felt awkward for making Malfoy feel awkward. Harry acknowledged that cycles of awkwardness were not necessarily helpful, but he didn’t quite know how to break free.

It wasn’t all bad. Malfoy was polite, and while he was uncomfortable, he was also trying. Harry watched in amazement as the cold, horrible boy he’d known in his youth would break into a fond, shockingly sweet smile whenever one of his kneazles did anything even remotely interesting. It was hard to reconcile his mental image of Malfoy with the man who laughed when one of the Potteazles became boisterous and knocked over a bowl of salmon, covering himself in chunks of pink fish.

Harry also learned all of the kneazles’ names. There was Rowena and Chrysanthemum, who he’d met before, and Godric and Gryff, the two Potteazles. Harry had a sneaking suspicion they were Malfoy’s favorites, which felt weird in a way that he was going to ignore for now. Then, there was Patricia, a long haired white cat with a smooshed face, who went iridescent with the slightest movement or shift of light, and Oswald, a large, heavily muscled cat who looked almost exactly like a leopard in miniature- if leopards were white with fuschia spots. There was also Marigold, Chrysanthemum’s mum, who surprised Harry by having a full coat of calico fur, which DID change pattern as he looked at it. This was everyone at the breakfast table, although to Harry, something didn’t quite add up.

“Malfoy, where are Chrysanthemum’s siblings? You said she wasn’t old enough to leave her mother- shouldn’t there be more of them?” asked Harry. He took a sip of coffee to cover his nervousness- it was the first thing either of them had really said besides “pass the butter” or “would you like some more jam.”

Draco smiled, a genuine, fond expression that Harry was coming to realize meant he was talking about his cats. Definitely a crazy cat man.

“I’m glad you were paying attention. Yes, Chrysanthemum is a bit young to have left the nest, but as you can see, she is taking regular trips to visit you. I believe in the importance of enrichment, and in allowing my kittens to build their freedoms prior to leaving the nest to find their forever homes. Therefor, starting at about 6 weeks of age, I begin organizing enrichment trips, at first with their mother and me, and then with just their mother or just me, and then finally I have them on several trips where neither of us go along. That one, however,” Malfoy paused and gave a mock glare at Chrysanthemum, who was batting at a piece of egg that Rowena had left lying near her spot at the table, “was conveniently missing when it was time for the kittens to go yesterday, and so I made the decision to send them on without her. It’s not fair for the rest of them to miss out on an enrichment opportunity just because she couldn’t be bothered to show up on time.” He gave her another stern look, which she ignored.

Harry took a moment to process this. 

“Malfoy, do you mean to tell me your kittens are out alone and unsupervised right now?” asked Harry, shocked. 

“Merlin, Potter, of course not. What kind of guardian would I be if I let my charges just roam the streets! No, no, of course not. They are all, er, chaperoned, and should be returning-” he glanced down at his watch, and paled.

Just at that moment, Harry heard the familiar whoosh of the floo from the other room, and heard a very familiar voice call out-

“Oi, ferret face, I’ve got your children here! They were all little bloody terrors, don’t know why I let you talk me into this- they apparated all over the house, ate all my fish and eggs, and tortured poor Crookshanks something fierce- Oh, hello, I didn’t realize you’d have company! Introdu- Harry!”

Ron, clad similarly to Malfoy in pajamas and a bathrobe (a Gryffindor one that Harry had gotten him for Christmas three years ago) strode into the room. Perched on both shoulders, in his arms, and sticking out of both pockets, were hairless kneazles. Ah. 

Harry looked at Ron, and then looked at Malfoy. Malfoy was blushing, his cheeks and nose a bright pink, while Ron was grinning, apparently delighted by what he was seeing. The pieces fell into place.

“You sent your kneazles on an enrichment trip to Ron and Hermione’s house? What?” said Harry, bewildered.

“Oh, good, you two have gotten it sorted out. Er, Harry, not that it’s not good to see you, but what are you doing at Draco’s place, and uhm, I don’t mean to pry, but are you wearing yesterday’s robes?” asked Ron, with an air of pure mischief.

Harry looked at Ron without comprehension. Yes, he was wearing yesterday’s robes- he often re-wore robes to the office, they all looked the same and-

“Oh, good grief, Weasley, he’s simply here returning my stray kitten- you know, the one I couldn’t find yesterday. She just ended up at his place, and… Harry brought her back,” said Draco, stumbling a little over the word Harry. 

Harry caught on to what they were talking about in a rush, and felt his cheeks flush as well.

“Er, yeah Ron, what he said. But I’d really still like my questions answered- why did you have kneazles at your house?” said Harry.

“Yes, of course,” said Malfoy, looking eager to change the subject away from whatever Ron was implying. “Kneazle kits need to learn about their world- the broader their experiences are as kittens, the more confident they will be as adults. The goal here is to expose them to new things- new people, new places, new kneazles. Spending the night in a new environment with relatively unknown people, and seeing that it is ok, is a culmination of much of my efforts towards socialization. Also, that majestic creature, Crookshanks, is a lovely example to them of how to respond to an adult feline that they don’t know- he’s very gentle with them, but also doesn’t put up with their harassment the way some of my kneazles who are accustomed to kittens in the kneazlery do. And, well…” Malfoy trailed off, and looked at Ron, his eyes uncertain.

“And Hermione and I volunteered. I was just kidding earlier, they were great. They’re very sweet, and it’s a blast to have a couple batches of kittens exploring the house a couple times a year. Plus, I think it keeps Hermione from stuffing our house with kneazles- which of course there’s nothing wrong with it, but she likes to see the kittens, and we don’t really have time to socialize them full time. Someday, though,” he pauses, and shoots an exasperated look at Malfoy, who smirks back at him, “Someday, when we HAVE TIME, and not before, we will of course be thrilled to become kneazle parents to one or two of your little demons. Maybe even a hairless one- I kind of like them, they didn’t shed on my couch at all!”

Harry snorted. Ron and Kreacher apparently thought along the same lines.

“Yes, well, I’m very grateful, thank you for your help once again,” said Draco. “Did you eat before you came, or did you want to grab something before you head home?”

“Nah, I already ate, thanks. Besides, I wouldn’t want to interrupt!” With another cheeky grin, Ron detangled himself from five mewling kittens, and turned and left the room, winking at Harry over his shoulders as he went.

Harry and Malfoy sat in silence, listening to the roar of the floo and the soft meowing of kittens. Malfoy scooped them up as they got closer to him, but they seemed happy to wander along the breakfast table, picking up scraps from the older kneazle’s plates.

Harry took one last drink of his coffee, and then stood up, the sound of his chair scraping horribly.

“Thanks for breakfast, Malfoy. It was… surprisingly decent. I appreciate it. I guess I’ll see you around?” Harry’s voice lifted at the end without his permission, turning the whole statement into a question.

“Yes, well, miracles do happen,” said Malfoy, smiling. “And yes, we’ll see each other again- I’ll owl you the details for the gala soon, does that sound fine?”

“Sure,” said Harry. With a sudden surge of courage, he continued, “Or you could come by sometime and tell me in person. I could feed you, and you could bring the, uhm, kittens. For another socialization outing. I’m sure my house would be very, uhm, enriching.” Harry felt himself go hot. He had no idea what had possessed him to invite Malfoy and his bizarre hairless kittens over. Or, well, he did know- this Malfoy was different than he’d thought, and he’d always been too curious for his own good.

Malfoy looked surprised, but after a moment’s hesitation, nodded. As soon as Harry saw the agreement, he nodded back, and then followed the same path Ron had earlier, and flooed to work.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to check out the awesome art still!! It's so perfect, I love it. Anyway, enjoy chapter 11!

It turned out that going to work was a mistake. No sooner had Harry stepped out of the office floo, he was accosted by Auror Robards.

“Potter!” he called out. “Where is the report on that kneazle inspection you went out on a few days ago? I’ve got all the other inspections here, and I want to send them over to Magical Creatures as a group, and I WILL be sending them over at the end of the day. No excuses!” Without waiting for Harry’s input, Robards retreated back into his office.

With a sigh, Harry went to his desk, grabbed his forms, and then flooed back to Malfoy Manor for the second time in as many hours.

***

Harry stepped out of the floo in Malfoy Manor. It occurred to him that he was becoming very familiar with this room very quickly. He’d only just stepped out when he felt the tell-tale crackle of apparation, and Chrysanthemum fell onto his shoulder out of the air, frantically purring and rubbing her little face against his cheek.

Harry laughed, and reached up to pet her. There was something so gratifying about someone being so excited to see him- even if that someone was a kneazle.

Draco strode into the room just as Harry gave in to his impulses and pressed a kiss to Chrysanthemum’s nose. He froze, feeling caught in the act, and then remembered that he’d personally seen Draco act like a complete fool over his animals, so he wasn’t in any place to judge.

Harry decided he’d had enough of Draco getting to start their conversations, so he pressed forward before Draco could speak.

“Hello, Malfoy. I’m terribly sorry- I didn’t finish the inspection the other day, and I need to get it done before we can reissue your permit. I believe I saw the main living quarters, but I’ll need to see the other spaces as well, and just run some standard diagnostics on your food and water sources, things like that. Also, uhm, sorry I didn’t let you know at breakfast- my boss sort of insisted I come over right away. I was planning on sending you a note or something first, but I ended up not having time.”

Harry noticed that Malfoy had gotten dressed since he left- he was wearing very nicely cut trousers, and a soft looking sweater in pale blue. The blue was not the sort of color Harry ever wore, but he thought it looked very pretty with Malfoy’s hair. No sooner had he though this than his brain filled with the image of Ron waggling his eyebrows and making all sorts of insinuations, and he had to stop thinking about anything at all, and just get this inspection done, and try not to blush too hard in front of Malfoy.

“Yes, of course. So this will be an official visit. Should I call you Auror Potter?” asked Draco, smiling. “Should I get Chrysanthemum off your shoulder, so she doesn’t get charged with something like impeding an official investigation?”

Draco took a step towards Harry, his arm stretched out as if to grab Chrysanthemum, and Harry put his hand up over her, covering her small, purring body.

“No, she’s fine, she’s fine. I wouldn’t want to, uh, disturb her,” said Harry, fooling absolutely no one. It was pleasant to have a kneazle who liked him sit on his shoulder- he was going to keep her there until he had to leave. “Now, if you could just show me the rest of the cat spaces, I mean kneazle spaces, I can fill this form out and you can get your license!”

Draco gave Harry an indecipherable look, but just nodded, and didn’t say anything. He motioned for Harry to follow him, and he started Harry on his second tour of the kneazelry.

They passed through the main cat room fairly quickly, although Draco did stop to stroke Godric and Gryff, who were again sleeping entwined together, this time on a patch of enchanted grass next to the koi pond. He shot Harry an embarrassed look, but seemed to be fairly resigned about the whole Potteazle affair.

After the main room was the kitten chamber, which was filled with blankets, low leveled cat trees and perches, and a pile of meowing kittens, all begging for Harry’s attention. He couldn’t help but laugh, and found himself sitting on the floor while Chrysanthemum’s siblings used his body as a jungle gym. He allowed himself a moment to just enjoy the feel of their warm little bodies, and then remembered that he was supposed to be an Auror on Official Business. Robards was always on about the importance of being an Auror on Official Business- he might as well have it tattooed on his forehead. Also, he was at the very least wasting Malfoy’s time.

He looked up, apprehensive, but Draco was just standing there, with an indulgent look on his face. At Harry’s guilty glance upward, Draco just shrugged, still smiling.

“I’m hardly going to judge you for enjoying spending time with kneazles, Potter. It would at the very least be hypocritical of me, seeing as I’m pretty sure you can tell I enjoy spending a lot of hours with my kneazles, and two, well, I just like seeing people like kneazles. It’s nice. Soothing. So, sit and enjoy the kittens. I’m sure the paperwork can be completely quickly enough- we’ve only got a few more spaces that are kneazle-specific, although I’m sure you realize that they do have the run of the house. I just normally spend my time in the rooms that are done up to their specifications,” said Draco. “Not to mention it’d be shockingly bad for business if I shamed people for enjoying the very animals I’m hoping to find good homes for.”

Harry smiled, but stood up anyway. The kittens looked at him with wide eyes, but were distracted almost at once by a self-moving mouse that skittered across the floor. They went after it in a terrifying herd of skin and ears and wrinkles, and Harry and Malfoy slipped out the door.

Harry passed an enjoyable morning wandering through Malfoy Manor- something he never thought he’d experience. Much of it was closed down, and Malfoy assured him that it was warded against even the most enterprising kneazle from entering by any means, physical or magical, but the parts that were open were warm and beautiful. It was obvious that Draco had made changes to his home based on what his kneazles would want- every room had soft blankets, or cushions, and little ledges installed or windowsills deepened so that the kneazles would feel at home no matter where they were. Harry cast diagnostic spells on all the plants and things, making sure there was nothing potentially toxic, and was surprised to learn that every single one of the plants in Malfoy Manor was not only non-toxic to kneazles, but actually had some sort of beneficial quality for their health.

Throughout this whole visit, Malfoy talked. He talked about kneazles, he talked about breeding kneazles, he talked about the magic involved in changing kitten appearance. He talked about adjusting the water fountains to be the perfect temperature and flow for maximum kneazle hydration. He talked about balancing their diets (“It’s all about protein, you see, and their digestive systems are similar to muggle cats, but not entirely the same”), and he talked about the process of socialization that he went through with each litter. 

He didn’t talk over Harry, but he also filled the silence. Harry had no problem butting in when he had a question, but mostly he was content to just walk around and listen to Malfoy chatter. It was nice. 

After about an hour, they came to the last room on the tour. It was a sunroom, filled with floor to ceiling windows, and full of gorgeous plants. Patricia was lying on the floor in a huge pool of sunlight, shimmering and glinting rainbow like a very soft diamond.

Draco reached down to pet her, and she made a sound like mrrrt and rolled onto her side, stretching her fuzzy toes directly in front of her. Harry watched, fascinated, as Draco cooed at her and scritched her under the chin, coaxing a deep, rumbling purr out of the large, fluffy kneazle.

“You know, I never really pictured… all of this, for you. And I know you probably wouldn’t have chosen me to be your kneazle inspector, but… I’m really glad it was me. I’m glad I got to see you like this, with them. I think it makes it easier for me to believe that you’ve changed, when I can see with my own eyes that there are things in this world that you’re sweet and gentle with- it makes me believe that you could be, uh, like that, with uh, others as well. So, thank you, Malfoy, and if you don’t mind, if we’re going to keep having these moments where I need to radically redefine my mental image of you, I’d really rather it be with someone who’s on a first name basis with me. So, I guess, if you want it, this is an invitation to call me Harry,” said Harry, stumbling a little, but managing to get the whole thing out in one go.

“Well then, Harry, I suppose you’d better call me Draco as well,” said Draco, looking amused. “It’s certainly going to make dinners with Hermione and Weasley more comfortable- they’ve been giving me a hard time for calling you Potter for ages, you know.”

Harry laughed.

“Wait, they give you a hard time for calling me Potter, but you still call Ron Weasley?” asked Harry.

“Don’t ask ME about it, they were your friends first,” said Draco. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled- it made him look kinder, Harry decided.

They spent a moment enjoying the sunshine and the purring of a content kneazle, before Draco broke the silence.

“Is there anything else you need for the form, or will that be it? I know we’re having emotional times and what not, but I hope you understand that my kneazle permit is very important to me.”

“Of course, of course! No, no, this is all fine. Actually, I should really get back to the office, and then I can turn it in. It really shouldn’t be long once I submit everything- the delay has been, er, entirely my fault, if I’m being honest. But now that I’ve got this form all proper, it shouldn’t be long at all,” replied Harry. “So, I guess I’ll see you later, for gala stuff? Assuming you’re not sick of me yet.” Harry was surprised to hear the mild tease in his voice, and he found himself suddenly terrified that Ron was going to burst in and notice. Given the events of that morning, it wasn’t as unlikely as he might have previously guessed.

“Yes, well, I’ll just see you out then,” said Draco, smiling. 

“No, no, it’s fine- I wouldn’t want to disturb you and Patricia. I certainly know my way by now. I’ve been here often enough!” said Harry.

As Harry walked through the Manor, flooed back to work, and sat at his desk, he found himself in a good mood- one that couldn’t be explained by anything other than his prolonged time at Malfoy Manor that day. This was a difficult realization, made worse when he returned to his office after going in search of tea, and discovered a large eagle owl standing on his desk, and he felt a surge of excitement, and also the sinking clarity of an important realization.

He wasn’t happy because he’d been at the Manor all morning- he was happy because he’d been with Draco all morning.

Welp.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry I took such a long hiatus- I assure you, it was not planned. I returned to work, wrote a capstone, did nanowrimo, and fostered an actual litter of stray kittens since I last updated- it's been a whirlwind! Anyway, things are calmer now, and I plan to update more frequently. I hope you enjoy Chapter 12 :)

The owl had contained gala details, which Harry had expected. It also contained running color commentary from Draco written on little sticky notes attached to almost every slip of paper, which Harry had not expected. It was rather sweet, if he was being honest with himself. 

However, since he’d received it at work, he didn’t really have time to consider the Gala, or fully take in Draco’s notes on said Gala, so instead he put his invitation aside, and trudged through his reports. He filled out Draco’s inspection first, giving him full marks on everything, and then started on the inspection backlog. 

The most common forms were inspections for kneazles, crups, owls, and puffskeins. He was able to complete those fairly quickly, with the help of his desksieve, a shallow pensieve built directly into his desk, to refresh his mind on the details of his various visits. However, this month he’d also gone on some more unusual inspections, and those required him to look things up in the Handbook.

  
Harry sighed. He hated the Handbook. Auror Robards loved it- he might as well have its picture tattooed on his forehead next to the part about being an Auror on Official Business. 

Harry had gone on an inspection of a firecrab breeder- it had been incredible. The slow, beautiful creatures had come right up to him, and eaten lettuce and carrots out of his hand, as well as some crushed granite the breeder had passed him, amused. They resembled giant tortoises with bejeweled shells, although they were of course highly magical. Harry had loved the entire visit, from start to finish- the giant, majestic animals that he’d gotten to feed, and the little, tiny glittering babies, who’d fit in the palm of his hand.

He’d loved the visit, but he still hadn’t been able to fill out the report, because the questions about firecrab breeders and the requirements were different than the standard form, and that meant he had to look it up in the Auror’s Handbook. It had become such a big deal, just not doing it and not doing it, and he’d built it up in his mind as some insurmountable task. 

Harry put his head down on his desk, took a deep breath, and got up to grab the handbook, ready to face his demons.

From start to finish, filling out the firecrab form, including looking up the regulations he wasn’t sure about, took five minutes. Harry sat the completed report on his desk, stunned. He’d allowed this to hang over his head for weeks, allowed it to mar the magic of his visit, and in the end, it had been easy. 

He felt miserable. Yes, he’d completed the task, but he should have completed it ages before, and he’d been building it up for nothing. It was an easily accomplished task.

He looked at the clock, and saw that he had just enough time to get his reports into Robards before he would be in serious trouble. He put them into the self apparating tray, where his forms disappeared with a soft pop, letting him know they’d arrived at their destination.

Deed of the day accomplished, Harry decided he’d really had enough of this, and was ready to go home. He grabbed his robes, and fled the office before anyone could find him and tell him off for leaving five minutes early. He didn’t encounter anyone, mostly because they’d all left quite some time ago. Harry made it to the apparation point without incident. He closed his eyes, and apparated home.

Once at Grimmauld Place, the house felt surprisingly empty. He wasn’t sure why- he could smell Kreacher cooking something spicy in the kitchen, and the lights glinted at him softly from along the walls. His furniture was as comfortable as ever, in shades and fabrics that he’d chosen. Nothing was wrong. He realized with a start that he’d been hoping Chrysanthemum would make another appearance tonight, and he was disappointed that she hadn’t.

He ate his way through an entire plate of jerk chicken while Kreacher beamed next to him at the table, mouth on fire and eyes watering, but enjoying it very much, while pondering what to do about his expectation that a kitten would have once again escaped to his house. 

What would Ron do? He wondered to himself. Unbidden, his brain filled with the images of Ron showing up in his bathrobe, covered in hairless kittens, and he giggled, then paused. Actually, that wasn’t such a bad idea.

He grabbed a piece of parchment, and began to write.

_ Dear Draco, _

_ I just wanted to see if you and the kittens wanted to come over for an enrichment experience at my house. There are lots of stairs and ledges and things for kittens to climb on, and Kreacher told me earlier that he’d be happy to cook for kittens if I just give him advance notice. I don’t know how kitten proof my house is, but if you send a list of requirements, Kreacher and I can take care of them before they arrive. Does Friday night work for you? _

Harry looked at his letter with a critical eye. It still wasn’t a great work of art, by any means, but it was certainly better than the last letter he’d sent Draco.

He waffled for a while over how to sign off, and eventually settled on just a simple  _ Harry.  _ It felt weird to leave nothing, but he couldn’t think of anything better that wouldn’t be presumptuous.

He sent the letter through the floo, since he didn’t own an owl. He then took care of the next order of business- telling Kreacher.

“Kreacher,” began Harry, a bit unnerved to be the direct recipient of Kreacher’s stare, “How would you feel about hosting some kittens for a night? Just for a night, mind you, but we could cook for them, and play with them, and do, er, kitten things, I suppose.”

Kreacher’s ears perked up, and he nodded enthusiastically, causing his ears to flop back and forth.

“Oh, yes, Master Harry! Kreacher will be cooking for the nasty little vermin, and making sure they don’t shed on the couches, and providing all manner of kneazle entertainments!” Despite some of his words, Kreacher’s tone was gentle, and he was clearly excited about the idea of kittens in Grimmauld Place.

“Er, well, it would be the hairless ones, so they wouldn’t shed on the couches. But I’m sure they’d still like whatever activities you had planned.”

Kreacher quivered with excitement, and began muttering to himself about various types of fish and protein. It sounded remarkably similar to what Draco had been talking about earlier at the Manor- it appeared Kreacher knew his kneazle nutrition.

“Well, I’m glad you approve! Tentatively scheduled for this Friday, I’m still waiting for-”

At that moment, a sharp rap on the kitchen window interrupted Harry. Draco’s owl was outside, tall and imperious, and expecting to be let in.

Harry opened the window, and the owl merely dropped the letter in and then flew off.

Harry tore open the piece of parchment, desperate to see what Draco had said, suddenly filled with fear that he’d say no, that he didn’t want to bring his kittens over to Harry, that maybe Draco wasn’t enjoying spending with with Harry the way Harry was with Draco…

These fears were alleviated when he read the short note.

_ Harry, _

_ Friday sounds wonderful. I’ll be happy to come over for dinner, and then they can spend the night with you. It will be excellent for them to spend some time in a home like yours- something between Hermione and Weasley’s flat and the manor will be good for them. _

_ I sat down to write a list of kitten proofing tasks and then became overwhelmed and stopped immediately. It will be much easier if I just come over and do it/help you get it set up on Thursday. I’ll be over at seven. _

_ -Draco _

Harry grinned. The kittens were going to come over, and he had not one, but two evenings with Draco to look forward to. The week was looking up.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Art] Chrysanthemum the Kneazle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25660213) by [Ada_Lovelaced](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ada_Lovelaced/pseuds/Ada_Lovelaced)
  * [[Art] Godric and Gryff the Potteazles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25661218) by [Ada_Lovelaced](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ada_Lovelaced/pseuds/Ada_Lovelaced)




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